


Winter's End

by oninofukuchou (OrderOfRevan)



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: F/M, Hamamura Mikoto - Freeform, Hijikata Gets Shot, Kazama Death Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrderOfRevan/pseuds/oninofukuchou
Summary: Hamamura - no Hijikata - Mikoto witnesses the end of the Shinsengumi's long winter and greets the spring.
Relationships: Hijikata Toshizou/Original Female Characters
Kudos: 7





	Winter's End

She’d long since grown used to the sound of artillery shells firing and hitting the ground and to the sound of gunfire. The war that waged around them and shook the city of Hakodate did not surprise her any longer, though there was a time she couldn’t have imagined this kind of death. 

Once, Mikoto -- HIjikata Mikoto -- had been a simple city woman. 

She’d lived her days ignorant to the kind of suffering that was faced in the world just beyond her front stoop. Then she had left home to suit her own ambition and found herself drawn into a world that she could not even begin to comprehend … Not until she had accepted the bloodshed as her own responsibility. 

In order to understand the world of the samurai, Mikoto had to become one herself. 

To be a samurai was to embrace death as a part of life, as an inevitability. It was a way of living with the end in mind at all times, and to come to an end that brought honor not only to yourself but to the master you served. In that way, your life would never be futile or empty, no matter how short or seemingly inglorious it was to the rest of the world. 

For a samurai, it was worth it to stand and fight just as it was to fall for those beliefs. 

And yet it wasn’t heresy to ask for a peaceful end to this, regardless … Because the more samurai lived, the more she believed some small part of them could be passed on to the next generation. 

The best parts.

The parts she herself had learned to cherish so much she would spill her own blood for them. 

That was all she could think the moment she heard the gunshot go off and saw him fall from his horse without making a sound. 

It was a shot that severed her heart in two, the noise making her throat grow tight as she bit back a cry of despair and forced her mind to focus. Biting down on her lip, she spurred her steed forward before throwing herself from the saddle and into the dirt, hitting the ground hard enough to wind her and possibly bruise her ribs. Stunned, she stared up at the sky and gasped for air as white flashed inside of her skull and blinded her to all else, leaving her with nothing but her terror and the throbbing of her body. 

Mikoto recovered as quickly as she could, the fall hardly enough to stop herself from dragging her body through the dirt towards the prone form of Hijikata Toshizou. Even several meters away from him she could smell the stench of blood, a smell that she had long since grown used to that now nauseated her and made tears sting behind her eyes. Nonetheless she carried on, hating the feeling of congealed blood and soil between her fingers and loathing the way it soaked into her shirt and coat, leaving her entire front completely red with his blood. 

But she’d managed to make it to his side in spite of it all, propping herself up on her elbows to press her head against his chest. Relief flooded her for a moment when she felt the rise and fall of it, but the breaths were not deep enough and his skin was colder than it had ever been before, even in the winter months when he’d stupidly go out into the Hakodate nights without gloves or a scarf. 

Biting down on her lip again she swallowed back her tears and pushed herself to her knees, slapping the tips of her fingers against the side of his face hard enough that she could see his eyelashes flutter. Slowly, his eyes opened, blurry at first until they found her arm and followed it upwards, smiling weakly when he met her eyes. 

“Talk about a rude awakening,” he wheezed, the fingers at his sides twitching and scratching against the earth. “Shit -- That was some bullet.” 

“Shut up,” Mikoto snapped, grabbing his arm and tossing it around her neck, hoisting him upwards until his full weight was borne against her shoulder. “This is no time to joke. I’m getting you out of here before those bastards realize the horses are riderless and circle back to finish the job.” 

He looked like he wanted to argue with at least one part of what she’d said; after all there had never been a man alive who had more energy for being defiant. Still, he allowed her to drag him away into the shadow of the trees, off the road and into the cover of the wooded countryside where she had her work cut out for her. 

Not only was he taller than her, he was heavier than she was and bleeding so much that she had to frequently stop to stamp out parts of their trail so they could not be followed. Hounds could still do it, but she doubted the Imperial Army had thought to bring them and it would take them some time to drag dogs with a good enough nose to track from the city proper and the surrounding countryside. 

And yet Mikoto did not stop until they crossed a small stream, propping her husband against a sturdy tree trunk before tearing open the buttons of his vest and shirt to look at his wound. It was a nasty shot, one that had left a sizable hole in his lower left side large enough to make her spirit quiver inside of her. Her only consolation was that it had been a clean shot and went through to the other side, but it also would not stop bleeding and she had no clean cloth to bandage him with. 

“Geez,” his voice was soft, fainter than it had been in the clearing, but he had somehow found the strength to touch the back of her hand with his icy fingers. “Don’t look at me like it’s my …” He swallowed thickly, “my funeral. I told you --” 

“And I told you to shut up. Don’t waste your precious energy talking,” she said, shrugging off her own jacket before gritting her teeth, unbuttoning her shirt, and beginning to unbind herself. 

It would have clean parts to it and was already wide enough to staunch the wound, at least, even if the bleeding did not stop completely. She’d simply have to be very careful when she banadaged him, that was all … 

“Mikoto--”

“Stop!” She shouted, pulling the last of the cloth free, watching his violet eyes go wide. “Stop talking! I know you want to live, but you’re not going to do it without my help!” 

His mouth fell open, guilt flashing behind his eyes… Which is not what she wanted to see. 

Leaning forward, she pressed their forehead together and let out a slow breath to calm herself and keep the burning from her eyes. Right now she needed to be as strong for him as he always was for everyone else, his solid rock, the reason he had to pull himself back from the brink, his lifeblood--

Blood. 

He drank  _ blood _ . 

Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and bit into her own lip as hard as she could, leaning forward to wrap him with her bindings regardless. Her teeth sank further into her lip, but she wasn’t satisfied until she tasted the coppery tang of blood, tying the bandages as tightly as she could before drawing away to look at him. 

His eyes were half lidded, face as ashen and pale as any corpse she had ever seen, but hope blazed inside of her. She knew that he was still a fury, even here, even if the impact of Kazama Chikage’s magical blade left him crippled in a way he had never been before. It had rendered his healing powers much weaker, or perhaps that was his own restraint in his desperation to live?

Either way, it didn’t particularly matter to Mikoto. 

He  _ would  _ take her blood. 

She would  _ make _ him. 

Propriety and his feelings be damned, this time. 

Mikoto didn’t pull away, cupping his face in both her hands and soothing her thumbs over his cheekbones before leaning forward to kiss him. His breath rasped in sudden protest at the taste of blood, but like always he was unable to resist it and tepidly leaned into her mouth, though she had the sinking feeling it was with all the strength he currently possessed. 

Pulling away, she licked her lips and then reached for one of the swords at her waist. In front of her, he grit his teeth as he watched her move but did nothing, though she had a feeling he’d try to take the piss out of her for it later… But right now, red specks swam in the depths of his otherwise violet eyes and she could see the need howling behind them. 

The need to live, the need to fight. 

Pressing the blade against the skin of her wrist until she felt the bite of steel, she brought the laceration to her mouth, fearing the implications of his body being too weak to completely manifest his abilities as a fury. She loathed the taste of the blood, but for him she would have done much, much worse, her need for him to live more than a match for his own. 

Seizing his head with one hand, she pressed her open mouth to his and felt nothing but giddy relief when she heard him greedily gulping down the offering of her blood. It was all she could to move fast enough to feed him, the hand on his face basking in the new warmth that had started to seep back into his skin little by little. 

After her fourth trip, he grasped her wrist in his head and firmly shook his head, his gaze now clear and warm. This time, it was him who took her arm and made a face at her before he tore a long strip of cloth from the top of his white shirt where the blood had not soaked. Wrapping it tightly around the wound, he pulled her against his chest where she could hear his heartbeat, strong and sure.

And so very alive. 

“Why did you do that?” he asked her, pressing his hand to her head to card it through her hair, both of them covered in so much blood at this point that it hardly mattered where else it got. “How do you think I felt, seeing the woman I love cut herself open for me?” 

The word ‘love’ pushed a laugh from in between her lips, one that filled her with so much warmth that her chest expanded with her deep affection in spite of the situation. Smacking him on the shoulder, she pulled back just enough to look up at him and smiled, “what kind of idiot watches the man she loves die right in front of her?” 

He looked abashed but returned her smile, his fingers still brushing through her hair. The most adorable and endearing pout she’d ever seen passed over his features, one so profoundly adorable that it made her look forward to the future.

“Shut up.” 

“Never,” she said, resting her head back against his chest and simply basking in his warmth, in the fact that he was gloriously alive. 

The world could have ended in that moment and she would have been content. 

Eventually the absurdity of the situation occurred to her, both of them sitting with their shirts open, pressed together and covered in blood from tip to toe. He had just nearly died, and she’d done so much to save him … And out there, in the world beyond this wood, there was the last battle of a war raging on. 

A war that would end the era of the samurai.

But on her own life, it would not end either of them. 

“We should move,” he muttered, as if reading her thoughts. “Circle back to the edge of Goryokaku and pick up our shit where I stashed it last night.” 

“Is that what you were doing up so early this morning?” she asked him, pulling away again. 

Toshizou cupped her face, a look of warm amusement on his face, “well if I were at Goryokaku when we surrendered, they’d take me back and behead me. If I’m going to live we have to escape into the Ezo countryside.” 

Just like always… Resourceful Toshizou. 

“I don’t want to think about you getting beheaded,” she smiled, pushing herself to her feet before offering him her hand, “not when you just barely survived being shot.” 

He snorted and took her prolifered hand, allowing himself to be supported by her… Possibly for the first time in her working memory. Smiling up into his face, she helped him deeper into the wood before they both doubled back towards Goryokaku and the outskirts of Hakodate, the wood eventually thinning out and leaving only a few impressively large sakura trees in full bloom, their petals caught in the cool spring wind. 

They both paused, Mikoto thinking about all the times they’d shared and all the springs that she had passed at his side. As brief as it was in the scale of her life, those scant years with the Shinsengumi had meant more to her than the sum of all the years before, had shaped and changed her. For their brevity and their tragic end, they meant no less to her, and like the consistency of the blossoms that bloomed and fell again and again she would always carry the Shinsengumi in her heart. 

“You know,” Toshizou said, his voice as soft as the breeze, “ever since that spring I spent with you in Tama, I can’t help but think of you every time I see them.” 

She looked at him to find he was already looking back, his expression gentle and full of deep affection and nostalgia. Mikoto could picture him, his swords hanging at his side, the look on his face as he’d tucked the pin he’d given her into her hair for the first time. It was the first time she’d realized he loved her and though it had been a painful thought then … 

“If I asked you,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder as she turned her gaze back towards the blossoms, “would you take me to see them again? Just me and you?” 

“Only if you promise to dress up nice and buy the sake,” he said with a cocky half-smile that reminded her so much of the man she’d first met in Kyoto, the man who beat Heisuke in show matches for the Aizu and went out drinking with his men from time to time, that it made her feel relief. 

“You have to get me the kimono,” she said, content to let time stand still in this place that felt like neither heaven nor earth, a special place that only the two of them shared where time itself stood still. 

He only chuckled at her and shook his head, his entire body going rigid as his eyes focused on something in the distance that she didn’t see at first. Obscured by a flurry of petals, it took her a moment to detect the dark shape of a man standing amongst the trees, but when she did she immediately recognized him. 

Pale hair, dark clothing, a look of steel in his eyes … He was within speaking distance in a moment, making every hair on her body stand on end. And yet… She felt no fear of him, not like she had all the times they’d encountered him before. Even when that arrogant smirk curved his lips into an iron-edged smile, she felt nothing for him at all, her former hatred dissipating to nothing but a vague sense of resignation at what was about to occur. 

Kazama Chikage himself seemed different, tired and reserved, and when he looked upon them both there was none of his former disgust. Instead, he looked upon them the way that Kodou Sensei had, in the end … Like respected opponents that he could place his trust in, someone who understood what it was to be one of the final inheritors of a dying species. 

“So you’re alive after all,” Kazama drawled, his eyes flickering between the two of them, “you and your woman. I must admit … I’m impressed. You hardly seem to have the right, as often as you fools lose.” 

His words were mocking but his tone was not, and it was because she had spent so long at Toshizou’s side that she now recognized his show of respect for what it was. Unsurprisingly, her husband also recognized it for what it was and only smiled in response , the smile that was all teeth and made his eyes light with humor. 

“What would you’dve done if I’d bit it already?” He asked, taking a step forward as he broke away from her side. “Though I’m impressed, too. Never thought you’d give up your title just to come and face me, man to man.” 

They looked at one another for a moment, Kazama reaching out to catch a petal in the palm of his hand. He stared at it for a moment before dropping it and letting it drift slowly to the ground, his eyes never leaving Toshizou - HIjikata - once. 

“Your life is just like this blossom, destined to end quickly from the moment it begins. You have wasted years of your existence in a manner of moments, and for what? To throw your life away? I will never understand the mind of a False Oni;” Kazama’s voice was clear but there was also a question in it, as if he were seeking some response from Hijikata, something that would validate a hidden belief to which he could not yet give life by speaking it. 

“I’m not in a hurry,” Hijikata said, his own voice never wavering as it rang through the trees and made the petals shiver with its strength, “and I’m not trying to throw my life away. I use this power because I have something to protect.” 

For just the briefest of moments, his eyes fell on her and her heart swelled at the sight. 

So much hurt, so many regrets, and he had finally come to find a reason to live again. 

“Besides… Haven’t you heard?” Hijikata cracked another grin, a laugh accompanying it this time. “The life of the Shinsengumi’s ideal warrior is hard.” 

Whatever answer he had been seeking in Hijikata’s words Kazama seemed to find it, and his eyes closed as a genuine smile momentarily softened his features. 

“I see. I was wrong to call you a False Oni. I take back every insult I have given you,” his head bowed in slow acknowledgement of Hijikata and his accomplishments. “You are not False, and that means you can only be an Oni.” 

The words gave Hijikata pause, evident in the sudden tension between his shoulder blades, but he quickly relaxed and shook his head with another easy smile, “I didn’t do any of this to impress you.” 

“That does not matter,” Kazama continued, utterly unaffected by her husband’s words. “Every Oni must have an Oni name… So I will name you Hakuouki.” 

Hakuouki.

At the sound of the new name Mikoto’s eyes lifted to the sakura blossoms above, their branches still shedding petals onto the ground below. Already, Hijikata’s hair had managed to capture a few, the perfume of them bringing her back to simpler days that seemed so brief now in spite of how brightly they shone in her memory. 

Hijikata’s only response was to draw Izuminokami and fall into position, the petals in his hair lost as it shifted from midnight black to silvery-white. His opponent was utterly unsurprised, his own enchanted blade singing as he loosed it from its scabbard, the surface glinting a dull and icy blue in the bright sunlight. 

“Toshizou,” she said, taking a half-step forward, “I know you’ll win.” 

His face turned just enough for Mikoto to see the curve of a genuine smile before he disappeared into a blur of black and white, charging at his opponent. Kazama’s responding grin flashed like lightning across a black sky before he launched himself into the air and their match began, so fast that it took all her concentration just to track their movements with her eyes. 

Their swords struck again and again, each blow more musical than the last until they seemed to harmonize with the whistling of the air, creating a symphony. She could only watch and listen, any anxiety at the outcome having long since drained from her limbs to leave her with the quiet certainty that Hijikata would always come back to her. 

He would win this fight and they would spend what was left of his life together. 

They had both earned that measure of peace. 

Flurry of blows coming to an end, the both of them slid into place as a sense of stillness overcame the grove of sakura trees. The two men looked between one another, understanding mirrored on their faces as they breathed heavily, Hijikata’s proud profile graced by a smile that was profound in its lack of complication. 

“I don’t have any more time to play,” he said, the red of his eyes turning golden as they reflected the sunlight above, “that okay with you?” 

“Very well,” Kazama Chikage agreed and fell back into position, the two men shouting in tandem as they charged at one another, their cries echoing through the trees. 

A strong wind blew across the clearing, sending petals fluttering into the breeze as if bearing witness to the scene below. They obscured her line of vision, but did nothing to dampen the heavy, wet sound of a blade finding home in a man’s flesh, a flash of sunlight against metal her only warning as a sword went sailing through the air and fell into the dirt with a noisy clatter. 

Only when the petals cleared did she finally see what had happened, her heart leaping into her throat with desperate relief as she released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding onto. 

There, both of them covered in delicate blossoms, stood Kazama Chikage and Hijikata Toshizou. Blood dripped onto the ground at Hijikata’s feet from the wound in Kazama’s chest where Izuminokami had pierced his heart, their eyes locked. 

“Sorry,” Hijikata said, his voice sure even as his hands trembled with strain, “but I have a reason I can’t die yet.” 

A smile spread across Kazama’s lips, one that held no trace of his former savagery or bitterness, and he reached his hand up with a great deal of effort. It fell on Hijikata’s shoulder, the two men in their own world, a world that Mikoto stood on the very edge of as she watched Kazama speak his last words with belabored, rasping breaths. 

“If I can die… On the blade of a samurai such as yourself... Then I have lived with honor and I die with the same,” he said as his body went limp, his hand still holding on, fading eyes unwavering. “Go, Hakuouki, live whatever life you have left.” 

And then he was dead, the grove silent in the wake of his departure. 

Hijikata - Toshizou - wavered and stumbled backwards. 

His blade went with him, pulling free of Kazama’s body as they both fell. 

Seeing him collapse was what finally made her move, propelling her forward with enough speed that she hit the dirt nearly at the same time he did. Mikoto could feel her knees bruise as she hit the ground violently but found she didn’t care, immediately pulling him into her arms to brush his black-again hair from his face as she positioned his head on her lap. She had no fear that he was dead, his breathing even and deep, far from the shallow breaths of a dying man … But it still hurt to see him this way, even though she also felt a great deal of relief. 

Her hands soothed over the skin of his face, his long lashes opening slowly as he gazed up at her. A warm and gentle smile graced his lips and his hand reached slowly upwards, fingers brushing hot tears from her cheeks.

She hadn’t even realized she was crying. 

“Geez, Mikoto,” he said, his voice deep and soothing, a tone she hoped to hear him adopt more in the future, “what are you doing crying like that? 

“What do you mean what am I doing?” she asked, taking his hand and holding it to her face. “Can’t you just let me cry happy tears for once?” 

His responding laugh made her feel more at ease than she ever had before, and as the blossoms shivered in the spring wind she found herself grateful for the end of the long winter. 


End file.
